


The Light That You Shine

by Verai



Series: Ride Through My Heart [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biker Gang AU, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Alternating, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verai/pseuds/Verai
Summary: John Marston was proud to be part of the VDL Riders, a biker gang led by Dutch van der Linde, and had been with them since he had run from home at the age of 15. He and his makeshift family lived by three principles: live free, help those who need it, and punish those who deserve it. For five years, his gang was all he cared about and nothing else mattered. But then John meets you, and his priorities start to change.
Relationships: John Marston/Reader
Series: Ride Through My Heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748398
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	1. Start at the End

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out [veradia’s biker AU RDR2 art](https://veradia.tumblr.com/tagged/rdr2) for what inspired me to write this. This is a prequel to [Before This Dance Is Through](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20061463/chapters/47511355), so everyone is 6 years younger; John is about 20 in this story and so are you, my dear reader.

“Dammit Morgan, you could’ve warned me!”

Arthur grinned as he slapped John’s back. “Well, that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?”

The others laughed while John rubbed the back of his head, leaning down to pick up the can of beer. It looked too shaken up to open at this point, so he set it on the table and glared at his brothers. Stalking past them towards the mini-fridge, he pulled out another beer, popped it open and took a long gulp. Dressed in his favorite black leather jacket over a plain white shirt, ripped black jeans, a chain on his belt to keep his wallet from being stolen, and scuffed biker boots, John looked like he bought all of his clothes in the late 80s and never changed.

“So, what’re we doing tonight?” Javier asked, leaning against the mezzanine railing. He had his medium length hair tied up, strands of it falling from the hair tie to frame his angled face. His leather vest and his blue jeans were impeccably clean, and not a single misplaced thread was on his V-neck shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He carried his favorite combat knife in a holster on his hip, hidden under the vest, and he wore black fingerless leather gloves.

Lenny sat on the couch, his freshly polished black boots propped up on the coffee table. He looked like he didn’t quite belong in a motorcycle club, in his black pants and black T-shirt. His white cowboy hat was clean, his white blazer crisp. He had his own knife holster, concealed under his jacket. 

Sean was standing behind the couch, leaning against the back of it. He wore a green headband around his shoulder length hair, fancying himself an Irish Rambo, choosing to wear a blue athletic cut T-shirt and olive green khakis. He wore his brown Timberland boots, the same ones he had since he joined the gang. They looked dirty and scuffed to hell, but they still did their job, so he had no reason to buy new ones. His green & red striped flannel was tied around his waist, hiding a knife holster.

Charles was sitting back in one of the arm chairs catty-corner to the couch. He had his long hair braided tight, the sides of his head shaved. His dark blue peacoat was open to show his black turtleneck and blue jeans. Both of his black biker boots had knife holsters with a few throwing knives.

They all looked towards Arthur, who shrugged as he looked at all of them. He had his worn cowboy hat on with his old bomber jacket over a grey shirt, faded blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it with his silver zippo lighter, breathing in and letting out a puff of smoke before he responded. 

“Dutch wants us to go run security at some rich feller’s house party.”

“And how are we supposed to manage t’at? I don’t have any fine clothin’ for the occasion,” Sean groused.

“No amount of clothing can save you,” Javier joked.

Sean glared as the others laughed.

“Dutch said we just wear black polos and black jeans so we look like a security company,” Arthur said once the laughter died down.

“So. Is there an alternative motive for this job?” Charles asked.

“Of course there is,” Lenny said confidently. “There’s no way Dutch would deal with those kind of folks without a reason.”

Arthur nodded. “Word is that the rich feller has quite the car collection. We sneak in after the party while everyone’s wasted and drive a few of them outta there. Swap out the plates, get a paint job over at Hosea’s, done deal.”

“And if they have alarms or kill switches?” John asked.

“You know how to hot wire,” Arthur sniped. “You, Javier, and Lenny can deal with it.” He walked past all of them and headed down the stairs. "Meet you all back here by 6pm."

John shrugged. As they split up to prepare for the job, he looked around the small warehouse they called their biker club. Walking down the stairs, he went past their bike shop area underneath the mezzanine and paused for a moment. They had slowly built this place up from scratch, bringing in old furniture for their hang out space and tools to take care of their bikes.

And on the other side of the warehouse were two offices that had been converted into bedrooms. While the others had their own places to live, John and Arthur lived at the club, having both been orphans and taken in by Dutch. Their rooms weren’t anything fancy, just a little bit of room to sleep and store their worldly possessions. John headed to his room to take a nap.

Instead, he lay on his old mattress, staring at the ceiling. He had been with the gang for five years, since he ran away from his foster home. His mother had died six years ago from a drug overdose. When she was lucid, which wasn’t very often, she was kind, even as her eyes bled sadness at the edges; those were the memories he held onto the tightest. He didn’t even know who his father was, or if he was even still alive, but he knew that if he ever met him in person, he'd knock his lights out for leaving his mother such a wreck. 

After he had been sent to foster care, his foster parents didn’t try to understand him, they only tried to mold him into what they thought a proper young man should be. So he ran away. When Dutch found him, scrounging for food in a trash can behind the warehouse, he took him in. Gave him shelter.

Then there was Arthur. He was like a big brother, taught him how to fend for himself, taught him what it meant to give more than you received, even if it came with insults and punches to the face at times.

As more outcasts joined the gang, they also became his family, his brothers. Javier, Sean, Lenny, and Charles, one by one, they all joined and quickly became an intrinsic part of his life. He’d never want for more than this.

But lately, Dutch seemed off. For the past year, John had noticed him taking bigger risks, sending them on more violent jobs, and slowly stepping away from the hands-on work, leaving it to “the younger, faster men,” as he called them. There was a tinge of blind desperation in how Dutch led them now, almost as if he wanted to push them towards something greater, but wasn’t sure what that  _ something  _ was.

Rolling over, he stared at the wall covered in Led Zeppelin, Eagles, and other classic rock posters. He looked at the one Metallica poster he had and smiled wryly as he remembered Arthur throwing it at him, snarling “happy fucking birthday”, and slamming his door. He later found out that Arthur had snuck into the concert, stolen a poster, and ran half a mile to get away. And all because John had whined about not being able to go that night because he was sick.

He sighed and got up. He wasn’t going to get any sleep now. Leaving his room, he tinkered with his Honda Shadow Aero, his pride and joy, until it was time to go.

***

“We certainly look dangerous,” Charles said with a hint of humor in his voice as he calmly got out of the gang’s Sprinter van. 

“That’s because we are,” Javier said matter-of-factly as he hopped out next. 

Everyone bounded out of the van, with John the last out. He pulled the sliding door shut and followed the others into the house, hanging back as he listened to Arthur talk with the party host about the job. He trailed behind them as they were led around the house and made mental notes about where the party goers were allowed to go and where they were forbidden.

Once they were left to their own devices, Arthur turned around. “Alright men, let’s get to work.”

***

The party was wild, the party-goers were disgusting, and at the end, half of them were drunk, and the other half were passed out. 

It was almost far too easy to sneak into the garage, pick a couple cars that were not too flashy, and drive them off the premises. 

As they took off down some quiet back roads to lose any would-be followers, John sat and stared out the window into the pitch black night as Arthur drove with the window rolled down, his arm hanging out the window. Lenny and Sean had taken a car while Charles and Javier had left the party earlier, driving the van to Hosea’s shop.

“Hey.”

“What.”

John scratched his beard. “Do ya think—”

“I think more than you,” Arthur interrupted.

“Dammit Arthur, I’m tryin’ to be serious here!”

“Calm your balls,” Arthur said gruffly. “Yer so easy to rile up, I can’t help it.”

John let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you think Dutch is… do you think he’s tired of this? Of the club?”

Arthur was silent for a few moments. “Why do you say that?”

“He hasn’t been around much lately. He tells us to go do these jobs that are more and more dangerous. We haven’t done a charity drive or anythin’ nice for the community in the past two years.”

“Yeah, I noticed too. I don’t know, I’m sure somethin’ will come around. Maybe he’s been busy just tryin’ to get us steady work.”

“We used to just get jobs that were just jobs. Now we always have some double crossin’ or thievin’ or some shit that could get us in serious trouble!”

Arthur was silent for a little too long.

“Arthur?”

His sigh was long and tired. “I know. I know.”

The rest of the drive was silent as they drove the two hours back to the city.

***

After they had dropped the cars off at Hosea’s car shop, Charles drove them all back to the club in the van. It was 4AM by the time they all got back, and collectively they decided to call it a night and get back together the next night. As the others took their bikes and headed to their own homes, Arthur glanced over at John, who was still silent, still thinking.

“Yer goin’ to think yerself into the ground there,” Arthur commented.

John shrugged. “I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Let’s talk to Dutch tomorrow.”

As Arthur headed back to his room, John stepped outside and leaned against the brick wall. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with his disposable lighter, and slowly took a drag as he stared up at the twilight sky, the stars barely visible in the city. He had an itch to be out in the open again, to sleep under the river of stars like he did in the desert. Or even to be out of a city, just for a while.

John finished his cigarette and slunk back into the warehouse, crawling into bed and staring at the ceiling until the sun came up before finally passing out when even his churning thoughts could no longer keep him awake.

***

“I swear, if we have to hear one more lecture about not having enough faith…”

Arthur just shook his head as he followed John out of the convenience store, quietly drinking his soda. 

“We just asked one damn thing, and he blows up at us like we’re questioning his entire existence!”

“You know how he is,” Arthur mumbled.

“I know how he  _ was _ . How he is now… he ain’t the same.”

John’s statement was met with silence.

“You know I’m right,” John insisted.

Arthur let out a long sigh. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know!” John looked away. "All I know is that things ain't the same anymore," he mumbled as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and went silent as they walked back to the warehouse.

"Well," Arthur said after a while, "It weren't us that changed, that's for sure."


	2. Love Blooms

You lugged the last bucket of fresh flowers off the delivery truck, placing it with the others at the back of the shop. Wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your gardening glove, you walked back to the truck to say goodbye to the driver. 

"See you tonight, Uncle George! Thanks for the help!" 

"No problem, sweetpea. Maddie is making lasagna tonight to celebrate."

You squealed with delight and waved goodbye as he drove back to the nursery that he and your aunt owned. As you walked back to the shop, you reminisced on the road that life had taken you. 

You grew up with plants, knew how to take care of just about anything that grew from the land. When you were in ninth grade, you decided that you wanted to open up a flower shop, and while your parents wanted you to go to college, you were stubborn. Reading about starting your own business and working your summers at the nursery, you finally convinced them to let you follow your dream. 

But on the day you graduated from high school, when you should have been walking across a stage to accept your diploma, you were instead in an ER waiting room, being told, in no uncertain terms, that your parents did not survive the car crash.

Two years later, the pain was still fresh. But they had taught you to live your life by moving forward and doing your best, to love the world, and to see the good in everything, even when things were down. 

So you moved on with your life, determined to not let your sadness get you down. After all, you knew that they'd want to see you thrive.

But some nights were worse than others.

Your parents had willed you everything, and with those funds, you rented a live-work unit with a small shop downstairs and a studio apartment above it. You were planning to put your all into your business, marketing on social media and researching floral trends to stay up to date so that you could stay ahead. 

You stayed so busy preparing to open your shop, in fact, that you didn't have time to be sad. No time to think meant no time to be depressed. 

It helped that Aunt Madeline, or Aunt Maddie as you usually called her, and Uncle George immediately came over after the accident and helped you sort everything out, from supporting you emotionally to aiding you in figuring out the estate sale and everything else in between. If not for them, you would have been in a far worse place, mentally, financially, and physically. You had been living with them two towns over until yesterday, when you finally finished moving everything over to your new place. It had taken a week of steadily packing and moving and unpacking your things, but you were done with that part. 

Now for the exciting task. 

You looked around the empty shop, seeing in your mind's eye where your displays were going to go, what colors you were going to make the walls, where your work table would be set up, everything. 

Stretching your arms above your head, you put your headphones on and got to work. 

***

John loved the open road. Driving between towns where there was almost nothing but farmland and blue skies, he felt free. Glancing at his mirror, he saw Arthur following him on his Indian Scout, a content look on his face.

_ He must be enjoyin’ himself _ , he thought as he revved his engine and took the highway exit. It had been a long time since he had passed through this small town. He wondered if one of his favorite fast food places was still around.

Arthur followed, giving him a ‘what the hell’ look as he pulled up next to him at the stop light.

“Felt like lookin’, s’all!” John yelled.

“You wanted a damn burger, more like!”

“You don’t have to come!”

“I ain’t missin’ Buffalo Joe’s!”

The light turned green and they sped off.

***

You were in the middle of washing your store windows when two men came walking up to you, looking confused.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked kindly, though their tough exteriors put you slightly on guard.  _ Can’t judge by how they look _ , you reminded yourself.

One of the men had on a cowboy hat and five o’clock shadow, with eyes the color of an atoll island. He looked at the other man, with his leather jacket and torn jeans, looking like he stepped out of an 80s music video. His shoulder length dark brown hair looked thick and luxurious, and his warm grey eyes looked around before they came to rest on you.

“Uh, excuse me, miss, but was there a burger place called Buffalo Joe’s around here?”

You blinked. His voice was like electricity running through your body; you hadn’t expected that reaction and had to pause a moment before replying. “Sorry, that place closed a year ago,” you said. “It was here though.”

The man cursed.

“John!” the other man mumbled angrily.

John looked back at you, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry, just…”

“Miss the place?” you offered with a smile.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well, the owners opened up a new restaurant two blocks down the road called Triple Patty’s. Same burgers, but dressed up a bit.”

He lit up at the news, and his smile immediately charmed you. Despite his rough get-up, he suddenly looked younger and more innocent. “Thanks for the tip.” He turned to his friend. “C’mon Arthur, you can buy me a burger.”

Arthur snorted. “You ain’t pretty enough for chicken nuggets, let alone a burger.”

You laughed at John’s offended expression. “Have fun, you two.”

John waved at you, shooting you a cheeky grin as he left with Arthur, and you found your eyes following the shape of his back as he walked away.

***

“Hey. Earth to John.”

“Huh? What do you want?”

“You been spacing out since we got here, you still thinkin’ about Dutch?”

“What? No. Can’t do nothin’ about him.”

“Then… oh. I see. I see what’s goin’ on here.”

John put down his burger and glared at Arthur. “And what exactly is goin’ on?”

“The girl.”

He picked his burger up and took a couple more bites before speaking again. “What about her?”

“You wanna talk to her again."

John's shrug was anything but nonchalant. "She was cute. Who wouldn't want to talk to her?" 

Arthur's chuckle was equal parts teasing and sympathetic. "Go talk to her. I'll meet you back at the club."

John blinked, surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?" 

"Can't I do anything nice for you without arousin' suspicion?" 

"No," John answered flatly. He finished his burger, glaring at Arthur. 

Arthur laughed. "Go on, get goin' before you miss her."

John gave him one final glare before he took off without a look back.

Arthur waved down a waitress and paid the bill. As he left the restaurant and walked back to his motorcycle, he looked in the direction that John was headed.

“Good luck, kid.” 

***

You were carrying a large box when you heard a voice from outside the shop. You set the box down on the back counter and turned around. 

John waved, a sheepish grin on his face. 

Coming back to the entrance, you opened the door. "Hi!" you said cheerfully. "Did you want a different restaurant?"

"Ah, no, that place was great! I just wanted to thank you again…" He trailed off as his eyes took in the disaster zone that was your shop in progress. "You, uh, need a hand with anything?" 

"Oh, no, I got this," you immediately replied, not wanting to trouble a complete stranger with some of the hard labor that you had planned. 

"Please," he said, stepping closer. His earnest expression tugged at your heart, and you found yourself unable to tell him no again. 

"Well, if you insist, then could you help me carry a couple of boxes from my car?"

***

Somehow three hours passed before you knew it, and as John helped you move the last display case into place, you noticed the sun was setting. 

"Oh my god, I didn't realize how late it was!" You turned to him, about to ask him something when you caught him stretching, his arms pulling at the tight shirt, showing his muscles bulging. A bead of sweat glided down his neck, and you suddenly had a strong urge to lick it. Then he turned to you, and you discovered that his eyes were a unique mix of grey and hazel; caught in the beauty of them, you were stunned to silence.

“What?”

You quickly pulled yourself back to reality. "Uh, I really appreciate all your help today. Can I buy you dinner?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he said with a wry grin. "You beat me to it."

You laughed, utterly charmed by him. "So I win?”

“I guess so.” He came closer to you. Your heart started to beat faster as you realized that he really was a very attractive man. “How about I buy you dinner first, then you can buy me one. Don’t feel right getting two meals in a row.”

You grinned. What a sly fox, getting you to agree to two dates at the same time.

Wait, was he asking you out on a date?

You froze. You hadn’t had much time to date, not since your life had changed so drastically two years ago. And even in high school, your ‘dates’ were just going to the movies with a boy and then going home right afterwards. You looked at John, his poise full of self-assuredness, as if he walked through life knowing his place in the world, and wondered for a split second what it would be like to get close to a man like this.

You were so deep in your own mind that you hadn’t noticed when he had taken a few more steps closer to you. Now he was within arm’s reach of you. He called your name out softly, his eyes focused on you.

“I, uh, yes. Two dates. I mean dinners. Two dinners. Sounds good to me,” you stammered.

He smiled knowingly at you; he had heard your faux pas and had commited your words to memory. “Great, glad to hear it.”

***

You gave John one of your newly printed business cards, too excited about the fact that you had business cards to worry about how silly of an act it was. But he took the card and drew a heart on the back of it as he wrote down your personal phone number. After adding your number to his phone and texting you so you had his number as well, the two of you planned for a dinner date the next night, and he took off. As you watched him ride away, you wondered if you were wise in following your gut rather than your logic. 

Locking up your shop, you got in your car and drove to your aunt & uncle’s house, looking forward to Aunt Maddie’s lasagna for dinner.

***

You spent the next day working on the orders that had already been placed, mostly by friends and relatives who wanted to support your business. You were grateful for their support and worked diligently, mulling over your designs again and again, agonizing over every choice. It was their orders that you were going to use to start your social media accounts to advertise, so you wanted to make sure they were absolutely perfect.

You were so wrapped up in your work that you didn’t notice how fast time had flown.

“Hey,” John said casually as he walked through the double glass doors.

You poked your head up past the half wall that separated your work area at the back of the shop from the retail area. You saw him looking quite cleaned up, dressed in a dark green button up short sleeve shirt, which he wore open over a plain white shirt, with faded blue jeans.

And you promptly panicked.

“Oh my god, I forgot the time, I’m so sorry!” You started to clean up your tools, but when you looked back at the bouquet you were working on, you started wondering if you should’ve added that tiger lily or not.

“Are you in the middle of work?” he asked, coming closer. He looked at your bouquet and tilted his head.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“Looks a little too orange,” he said bluntly.

You looked back at the bouquet. He was right. You took out the tiger lily, setting it aside. 

“You didn’t have to change it,” he said as you turned the bouquet on its lazy susan, observing it from all angles.

“No, you were right, it seemed a little too warm. Needs some cooler colors to balance it.” You grabbed some bellflowers and added them around the edges instead. “Perfect.” Turning to him, you smiled, happy with your work. “Thanks!”

John smiled and looked down at his feet. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled. He looked up again. “Shall we go, my lady?”

You laughed. “Wow, a gentleman.” You looked down at yourself; you were wearing a dumpy black T-shirt with a pair of bright purple denim shorts, all under your florist apron.

“Um, can you give me some time to shower and get dressed?”

John leaned in and sniffed your neck. “You smell like flowers. And you look good.” He pulled back, unaware of the effect his action and his comments were having on your heart. “But if you want to, I’ll wait.”

You looked at the clock that you had hung on the back wall. You looked back at John, who was looking at you like he wouldn’t care if you were wearing a potato sack, he would have still said the same thing. 

“Nah, fuck it, let’s go.”


	3. Gravity

You were absolutely humming and dancing around your shop the next day. The date had gone brilliantly; the two of you talked about the town and how much it had changed in so little time; he hadn’t been back for a year, and you hadn’t been back for two years, only having returned a week ago. He talked about living in the big city, but was vague about where he lived. You were surprised that he’d drive all the way over here to see you.

“40 minutes ain’t that far,” he had said. To you, the 20 minutes to your aunt’s place was an eternity. But you also hated driving. Or being in cars in general. Part of the reason you picked the place you lived was because just about everything you needed was within walking distance.

He had bought you dinner last night at your favorite little burger place. You had decided that if he was going to get to know you, then you might as well be up front about your eating habits. As you happily devoured your double burger cooked with onions and mustard mixed into the patties, you had looked over to see him watching you, a grin on his face.

“What?” you had asked, your mouth stuffed with burger.

“I love a woman who enjoys her food.”

You had nearly choked. Instead, you had taken a sip of your neopolitan shake and continued to eat, ignoring the heat suffusing your cheeks.

Tonight, he said he was going to let you pick the restaurant again, since you were paying. You had argued that since you had picked when he was paying, it was only fair that he picked this time. 

But he was savvy; he told you that you’d know the area better than he did; he trusted your judgement.

So tonight was going to be the flip side of your food habits; a vegetarian place. It was a small place that specialized in veggie bowls with a grain of some kind. You wondered how he would handle it. You knew some guys were picky about this sort of thing, and while you had a fleeting thought that it might not be fair to judge someone based on their eating habits, you also knew that you wouldn’t have fun with someone who wasn’t as adventurous as you were.

When he showed up at 6PM again, just as you were wrapping up your work, he walked inside and looked around, marveling at your work. You had taken today to decorate the shop, put up signs, and make sure everything was beautiful and presentable. When you started, you weren’t sure you were going to be ready in time for your Saturday grand opening, but with John’s help the other day, you had a bit of time to spare.

“Place looks real nice,” he commented as he leaned closer to one of the display benches. You watched as he leaned in and sniffed the peony blossom, closing his eyes. It was such a contrast to how he looked. His biker boots were worn and scuffed, and a green plaid flannel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, looking black as if he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore ripped black jeans and a black button down sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles perfectly. 

“So, where we goin’ tonight?” he asked.

You grinned.

***

To your surprise, he didn’t complain; he only nodded and went with you, walking the three blocks to The Green Grill. You helped him order, and he didn’t try to mansplain or anything of the sort. He was just a down-to-earth, humble guy, and you could feel yourself falling for him more, even though it was only the second date.

Dinner. The second dinner.

Afterwards, like a gentleman, he walked you back to your place, holding your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He had wrapped his flannel around your shoulders when you had shivered.

“That wasn’t too bad,” John said as the two of you reached your place. “Better than what I was expectin’.”

“And what were you expecting?”

“I dunno, goat food, I guess.”

You laughed at his answer. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t hate it,” you teased. Then you looked at him for a few moments. “You’re not just saying that to be nice, are you?”

He pulled you close. “I ain’t a nice man. But I’m always honest.” He cupped your cheek as he spoke, making sure he had eye contact with you so you knew his words were true.

Your heart beat stuttered at how close he was.

“Can I see you again?” he murmured, his raspy voice sending electric tingles down your spine.

“Of course,” you breathed. “If you want, you could come to my grand opening tomorrow morning.”

He suddenly looked a little sad. “I can’t, I have work.”

You nodded. “That’s alright. So do I,” you said, one side of your lips quirking up in a joking grin.

“Dammit, you’re so cute.”

He tipped your chin up with his forefinger and slowly leaned in. You gravitated towards him, closing your eyes as he closed his.

John’s small moan of pleasure as his lips met yours shot a zing of desire through your body. He stepped forward, pressing you up against the glass door as he kissed you more, his body covering yours, his hand gripping your hip and pulling you against him.

Then he pulled away, leaving you both breathless, pupils dilated with desire.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, even though his face clearly said he wasn’t sorry.

“No, it’s fine, you.. That was nice,” you finished lamely.

He softly smiled at you before he took your hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed the back of your knuckles. “I’ll call you when I’m free. I promise.”

You nodded, surprised by his touching gesture. He caressed your face delicately with his fingertips. “You get some rest. You got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead. “See you later, sweetheart.”

As he walked away, you realized, with the pounding of your heart, that he could have easily continued to make out with you some more and you would not have stopped him. Instead, he hadn’t even given you the option to ask for more; he had stepped away to let you rest.

You went into your shop and turned in for the night, but couldn’t stop thinking of stormy grey eyes and a wry smile.

***

“That was barely enough to cover the work it took to get those cars,” John grumbled as he stuffed his cash into his wallet. Dutch had come by, dropped off the envelopes of money for the gang, and had taken off, claiming he had more work to find for them.

Arthur shrugged, but his face showed creases of worry on his forehead. “Dutch said it’s gettin’ harder to sell these days.”

“Then maybe we should find regular jobs.”

Arthur stopped walking and turned to John, who had continued to walk to his bike.

“What?” John asked when he finally noticed that Arthur wasn’t next to him.

Deep in thought, Arthur looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “This ain’t the way we was. We used to ride around for fun, took on jobs that helped others. Now, well, now we just use our bikes because they’re good for gettin’ away from the cops.”

They were both silent. They knew that the others had part time work, or worked a series of gigs to make money besides their work with the gang. For John and Arthur, the gang was all they had. Dutch was all they had, for the longest time. They were two orphans with a charismatic man for an adopted father who was changing more and more by the day.

Perhaps the silence was to mourn the loss of the life they had. But it hung in the air like a hangman’s noose, threatening to cut off their air.

John took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “I’m goin’ for a ride.”

Arthur just nodded. “I’m gonna make a couple of deliveries,” he said as he walked towards the Sprinter van.

John knew what those deliveries were. He didn’t have to like it, but the pay provided for them, so he said nothing. He knew Arthur felt the same.

Hopping onto his bike, John took off to let his mind wander, letting himself ride with no destination in mind.

He found himself in a familiar town, on a familiar street, near a familiar storefront.

***

It had been a few days since you had seen John. He had called you at least once a day, asking you how your day was, asking how you were feeling. You didn’t ask when he could come see you; you didn’t want to seem clingy. He hadn’t said anything about when he’d be coming back; you assumed it was work that was keeping him away, and you understood that.

He had yet to call you tonight, as you sat at your work bench, putting your tools away.

Someone knocked on your door.

You saw a couple of older men in biker jackets, holding their helmets under their arms. Coming up to the door, you hesitated to open it after seeing their stern expressions.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed for the night,” you said through the glass.

“You new around here?” the taller of the two men asked gruffly.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Technically you grew up here, but then you left two years ago. “What do you want?” you asked, ignoring his question.

“Insurance funds. To protect your shop against vandalism.”

“I already pay insurance,” you said, ignoring the fact that this was clearly an extortion attempt.

“This is different. Call it a special insurance.”

“I’m calling the cops,” you said, pulling out your phone to call 911.

“Hey now, no need for that,” the shorter man said. “If you don’t think you need it, we’ll be on our way.” He nudged the other man with his elbow and together they walked off.

You looked at the back of their jackets; in large letters, ODB written across the top, with a green skull inside of a four-leaf clover below it. The letters MC were on the right of the symbol.

A biker gang.

You quickly googled ODB MC, to find that it was the O’Driscoll Boys Motorcycle Club, and they had recently started moving north. They had members known for extortion and money laundering, but the club itself had never been shut down, since it was the members and not the actual organization that did any of the crimes, or so the news said.

Shit. You wanted no part of this.

You called the police station to report the incident. Afterwards, as you attempted to put your phone back into your pocket, you realized you were shaking.

“John…” you mumbled, knowing that you could just call him if you wanted to hear his voice. How had he become the first name you thought of?

In your head, you heard his voice saying your name.

Then you heard a knock on the glass and turned around.

“John!”

You ran to the door and unlocked it quickly, throwing it open.

He looked at you, his eyes taking in your state in a heartbeat. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You crumpled to the ground and started shaking again.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he coaxed, kneeling down and holding you in his arms. He rubbed your back soothingly. “I got you.”

***

You told him about the men, about the symbols on their jackets. John’s expression turned dark as you told him everything. 

“They won’t quit, they’ll keep comin’ back. It ain’t safe for you here all alone.”

“I called the cops, they said they’ll put some extra patrols around here for a while.”

John let out a snort. “They’ll just wait’em out, then they’ll come back.” He suddenly gripped your shoulders. “You have any problems, you call me, you hear?”

You nodded. “Okay, John. But you’re 40 minutes away, I don’t expect you to just come riding in if I call you.”

John hung his head. “I know. But I’ll try to be here as often as I can. Alright?”

The conviction on his expression was touching, but you were a practical person. Unless he moved to your town, you were mostly on your own.

“Why don’t you stay with your aunt and uncle for a while?”

The thought had crossed your mind, but you had dismissed it pretty quickly. “I don’t want to trouble them…”

He shook you slightly. “This is your life we’re talkin’ about here! Troublin’ someone is the least of your worries!”

You nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll call them.”


	4. A Dip in the Road

The next couple weeks were a blur as you temporarily moved back to your uncle and aunt’s place, just for safety. When the cops called, asking you to identify two men who had been arrested for attempted extortion, you gladly did, and when they were off the streets, the police assured you that it was safe to return to your apartment.

The whole time, John stayed in touch, letting you know that he was here for you. He even came to visit you a few times, taking you out for dinner, but he always stayed a little away from your aunt & uncle’s house.

“They don’t need to see me,” he always said as he waved goodbye and sped away.

You had a feeling that one day, he would need to meet your family, because the way things were going, he was starting to occupy more and more of your heart.

***

Early in the morning, before the sun really rose in the sky, you headed back to your apartment, ready to move back in. You carried your IKEA tote full of your clothes from your car and around the corner to the shop front. 

At the sight before you, you dropped your tote and rushed forward. 

"John!" 

Laying on the sidewalk, groaning softly, John glanced up to see you and immediately tried getting up. 

"Sweetheart…"

Stepping around the broken glass, you reached for him. He looked like he had taken quite a beating. "We need to take you to a hospital."

"No, no, I'm fine, just need to rest," he grumbled, slowly getting up with your help. When you gave him a disbelieving look, he looked at you, his grey eyes hardening with resolve. "I'm alright. I promise."

You finally nodded and helped him into your shop. Sitting him down at your work table in the back, you ran back out to grab your tote, threw it upstairs and grabbed your first aid kit.

John sat quietly, letting you fuss over his wounds. For as bloody as he looked, they were mostly surface scrapes, minor cuts, nothing that would need stitches. He was bruised to hell, and when he took off his shirt to let you tend to his other cuts, your eyes wandered over his chest briefly. 

"Enjoyin' the view, baby?" he teased, winking at you. 

"Why would you call me out like that," you accused, putting some hydrogen peroxide on one of his cuts and grinning ruthlessly as he flinched from the sting. 

"Sorry, just tellin' it like it is."

You laughed softly. A few moments passed before you finally asked, "What happened?" 

John sighed. "You said you were comin' back in the mornin', so I thought I'd surprise you. But when I got here, there were a couple of guys smashing the windows. I tried to stop them, but they got the better of me and took off."

"You should've called the police! What if they killed you?" 

John shrugged. "Cops wouldn't have gotten here in time anyway."

You cupped his cheek. "That wasn't my point. I meant you. You could've been more hurt."

When he met your eyes, saw the care you had for him and the worry that he had caused you, he leaned into your touch, closed his eyes, and sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

You leaned in and kissed his forehead. "As long as you understand. Please take care of yourself."

He shrugged. 

"Please. For me?" 

His eyes softened as he took your hand and kissed it tenderly. "For you? Anythin'."

***

You called the police, filed a report, and called the insurance company, and basically spent most of the day taking care of business. John stayed by your side, helping you clean, despite his injuries, and generally being a good boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. You hadn't really thought about it with everything else going on in your life, but John seemed really devoted to you, making time to see you as much as possible. 

Towards the end of the day, you had appointments for your window to be repaired, and John had helped rebuild some of your display cases, even though you took on most of the heavy lifting this time.

You watched him as he sat down, looking exhausted. Coming over to his side, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Do you want to rest here tonight?”

He looked up at you, surprised. You were surprised yourself, to be honest. You’d never had a man over before.

After a few moments, while John was clearly debating with himself, he eventually shook his head. “As tempted as I am by the offer, I best be goin’ home. Dutch will chew me out if I’m not there in the morning.”

You tilted your head, curious. He hadn’t mentioned this ‘Dutch’ person before. “Is that your stepdad?”

John blinked. “No, not really.” He was silent after that, and you had the distinct feeling that any further questions in that direction would get shut down.

“Oh. Alright then.” You weren’t sure what to say after that. He was clearly hiding his home life. You wondered if it was shame, embarrassment, or something else entirely.

He must have seen the inquisitive look on your face because he took your hand in his. “I’ll tell you everything, some day. Just not right now.” He kissed the back of your hand. “I promise.”

“Awful lot of promises, John. You better keep them.”

He grinned. “I will.”

Standing up, he leaned in and gave you a tender kiss, his lips brushing over yours before he cupped your cheeks and slowly coaxed your lips open, deepening his kiss for a few blissful moments before pulling away. “Good night, sweetheart. Stay safe.”

As he left the shop, he made sure you were right behind him, locking the door before he walked away, waving as he went. You waved back and watched him go, and wondered why your heart felt like it was going with him.

***

“What the hell happened to you?” Dutch nearly yelled, his voice cracking slightly when he took in John’s form as he entered the motorcycle club. He stormed up to him and stared him down, waiting for an answer.

“Glad to see you too, Dutch,” John shot back. He glanced around but didn’t see Arthur.

“Arthur’s off doing a delivery,” Dutch said in response to his unasked question. He stood back and crossed his arms. “Working hard, unlike some people.”

“I was busy.”

“What could be more important than the gang?”

“The ODB are coming north. Ran into them while I was riding, stopped them from smashing some poor girl’s shop.”

Dutch suddenly stood up straighter. “Which town?”

John told him.

“I see.” Dutch paced around for a few moments. John stayed quiet, watching him. Then Dutch turned to John and glared again. “They’re serious business, John. You see them again on your own, you come straight back here. Don’t put yourself in danger just because you see some girl getting her shop trashed.”

John bit back his response; he hadn’t told Dutch about the girl he was seeing, and he wasn’t about to mention her now. He merely nodded.

“Good. Now, get your priorities in order. The gang comes first.” He touched his shoulder. “I just want us to be in a good place, and for that, we need money.” Patting his shoulder as he walked past him, Dutch bid him good night and left the building.

John let out a breath. 

The door opened again. He could hear Arthur telling Dutch the job was done, and that he’d see him tomorrow. Then Arthur came in, took one look at John, and shut the door, walking over to him before speaking in a low voice.

“What happened?”

John told him everything, up to when Dutch had left him alone in the warehouse.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Arthur scratched his beard. “You really like this girl?”

“Yeah.”

“You serious about her?”

John swallowed. He’d had his share of hookups in the past, but this girl was different. She was something pure, something wonderful. He wanted to be worthy of standing beside her. 

Arthur tilted his head when he didn’t answer. A few moments of silence passed.

“Would you leave the gang for her?” Arthur finally asked.

John’s jaw dropped as he stared at him. But Arthur’s serious stare forced him to think, to really consider his own priorities. He realized with a shock that he would do anything for her. 

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “I would.”

Expecting to be yelled at, John was surprised when Arthur only smiled wryly before looking serious again. “Then get out of this life, John. Get out and don’t look back. If you want to have a real chance with her, you need to get clean.”

Arthur started walking towards his room, leaving John to wonder what would make Arthur, king of loyalists, to give him that kind of advice.

***

“Boys, we have a problem.”

The gang turned to Dutch as he sauntered into the warehouse as they were all tuning their bikes. Standing to face him, the men shared some discreet glances at each other. Of course, they all knew about John and his girl, and had all encouraged him to start cleaning up his life. And without John knowing, the others had secretly agreed to not breathe a word to Dutch.

“John has told me that the O’Driscolls are comin’ north, towards our turf. Now I know I said that we shouldn’t mess with such a large gang. But I have you boys, the fastest, smartest, toughest gang in the city. I have a plan. We’re going to hit them hard, and let them know to stay south of the county line.”

“How’re we goin’ ta do t’at?” Sean asked.

“I hear they’re trying to open up a new chapter of their club nearby. We blow the place, leave a clear message they are not welcome here.”

The men wore varying expressions of wariness. Arthur, keeping his expression neutral, just nodded. “Alright Dutch, let us know the plan.”

***

As Dutch left the building, he realized that Arthur alone had followed him outside, leaving the others to start gearing up for the mission.

“Dutch, remember the last time we did anything like this?”

“We sent a clear message.”

“We lost Davey and Mac!”

“Arthur, now, if I could take their place, I would. But the gang as a whole survived, thanks to their sacrifice. Don’t let their loss be in vain! We must survive. Don’t you have faith in me, son?”

“...Of course I do.”

***

John looked up when Arthur came back in, his back hunched, his face wrinkled in a scowl. He continued to work, making the molotovs with Sean at the workbench.

When Arthur pulled him aside, he followed quietly until they were out of earshot of the others.

“When we go on this mission, you stay in the back.”

“What?” John nearly shouted.

“Shut up,” Arthur growled. “You have someone waiting for you.”

John glared. “I won’t hide like some little kid.”

Arthur glared back. “Just do as I say.”

“Why the hell should I?”

Arthur reached out to grip his shoulder. “Because you’ll make her cry if you get hurt.” He let his words sink in for a moment before continuing. “Just this once, please listen to me. It’d mean a lot to me if you did.”

John looked at Arthur and suddenly felt the age difference between them. When John had joined the gang 5 years ago, he was only 15, a dumb teenager. Arthur was already 25, probably had his own experiences that he never talked about.

Now, looking at Arthur, a 30 year old man trying to run around as if he was still in his early twenties, John felt his tiredness. He felt the world on Arthur’s shoulders. 

So he nodded, if only to help alleviate even a little bit of that weight. “Alright, Arthur.”

“Thank you.”

***

It was easy enough to find out where the O’Driscoll Boys were starting their new chapter. The building was shiny and new, freshly painted and almost ready to open. So the VDL Riders did what they did best: snuck in, did their damage, and slunk off into the night with no one the wiser.

Except tonight their luck had run out.

As John tossed the last molotov into the smoking building, a bullet broke his left rear view mirror. He immediately ducked and started weaving out of the way, looking in the other mirror to see three bikers chasing after him.

“Shit!”

He twisted and turned his way through town, trying to lose his pursuers, but to no avail. He finally reached for the S&W M&P 9mm in his belt and shot at their tires. He didn’t want to use a gun; attracted too much attention, but if he needed to use it, he would.

8 bullets later, the three men had stopped chasing him, their tires flat. He had some bullet grazes because he had to aim and shoot, but it was worth it. He sped up, seeing Lenny and Sean’s bikes go down, only to see Arthur and Charles turn back around and pick them up, pulling them onto their bikes as they quickly raced away, taking a hard left turn.

From the right, John could see five more bikers barrelling down the hill, coming after them.

He didn’t even think.

John threw his empty gun at the biker at the head of the pack, and swerved into the path of the other four, causing them all to scatter around him. Three of them slowed. One didn’t.

It almost was like slow motion, as the last biker careened into John’s rear tire, sending his bike spinning and John rolling and skidding down the road until he finally came to a stop on the sidewalk. He tasted blood, smelled blood, heard blood pumping through his veins and out of his multiple wounds. 

He bitterly thought about his favorite leather jacket and how it was probably torn up beyond repair. He felt like his limbs had become lead weights, too heavy to move, too numb to feel pain. 

The last thing John saw was blue and red flashing lights coming into his vision, the last thing he heard was the very last thing he wanted to hear.

Sirens. 

And somewhere in the background, he could hear the sound of a Harley come and go. Perhaps he imagined it.

Then darkness and blissful silence.


	5. True Freedom

John blinked his eyes.

“Oh thank god,” you said, watching him blearily come back to consciousness. He called out your name in confusion.

You held his hand. “I won’t ask you what happened now. You tell me when you’re ready.” You leaned forward and kissed the one cheek that wasn't bandaged. "I'll go call the doctor."

***

You sat in the waiting room, your head in your hands as you tried to control your breathing. You hated being here. It brought back too much pain.

But when you got the call from the hospital, you didn’t even think. You drove like a bat out of hell, trying to get to John. With his phone smashed and no numbers actually memorized, John had called you because he still had your business card, right before he fell unconscious again. You suddenly felt like giving him that business card was fate.

You heard your name being called. “Mr. Marston is asking for you,” a nurse said to you.

You looked up. The nurse was looking at you sympathetically. “He’ll be alright,” she said softly to you. You nodded, got up, and followed her back to John’s room.

He was going to be alright.

And so were you.

***

John left the hospital with you, looking like he had been torn up by wolves, but luckily, no broken bones. After he had told you he had been in a collision and thrown off his bike, you were amazed and incredibly grateful that all he had was 17 stitches and a mild concussion. The doctor told you that he would need to be observed for a week, perhaps two, and to call him if John showed any signs of regressing.

You drove John to the collision shop that had his bike, or what was left of it; it had been reduced to a pile of scrap metal, the rear part completely crushed, the front portion torn apart by the crash. Without insurance, John had no choice but to sell his wrecked bike, and as he took the money, you could see the look of mourning on his face, even as he tried to hide it. He brushed the seat one last time before watching it get hauled away.

"I'll drive you home," you offered.

"No, I know you don't like driving."

"Don’t you need to let your family know you’re safe? Your phone is gone."

John shrugged.

You reached out for him and hesitated, unsure that touching him anywhere wouldn't hurt him.

He sighed and took your hands in his. Pulling you into a tight embrace, he groaned softly as he strained himself just to hold you. 

"Should we call a cab, then?" you asked.

He pulled back and looked at you. "Can I just stay with you until my concussion is gone?"

You smiled. “Of course you can.” You didn’t want to argue with him, but there was something odd about him not wanting to go home, or even attempting to contact his folks. But as you stood there, looking at his bandaged face, you suddenly felt a wave of relief hit you, and you began to cry. All the emotions you had been repressing since you got the call came flooding out, and you were too weak to stop.

John gently wiped your tears. "Sweetheart…"

You took a deep shuddering breath. "Being in a hospital, seeing you like that…” You sobbed for a few more moments, and finally, finally, decided to tell him why. “John, my parents died in a car crash."

John's eyes softened and he cupped your face. He had never questioned why you didn't mention your parents, only your aunt and uncle. Now, learning this about you only made his urge to stay with you stronger than ever. "I'm so sorry. Is that why you hate driving?" 

You nodded. It was ridiculous, you knew it. You were so afraid that he'd disappear forever, even though he was right here in front of you. He had survived. He was here. You reached up and touched his unbandaged cheek, meeting his grey eyes filled with a soft tenderness that melted you. 

He kissed your forehead before he took your hands and held them gently as he looked you in the eyes. “I’m sorry I made you worry.” He pressed his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. “Thank you. For caring.”

Something in the way he said it, how his voice stuttered a little bit at the end, made you think he hadn’t been cared for like you had been. Your heart tightened, and you kissed him tenderly on the lips, your breath mingling with his as you murmured, “Always, John.”

***

A week passed and the two of you became closer than ever. He couldn't sit still, always offering to help you with something around the shop, even if it was just helping hold flowers while you wrapped ribbons around the stems. You told him to rest, and though he was loath to stay still and wouldn’t stop grumbling about it, he always did as you asked.

But every day, you asked him if he wanted a ride home, and every day, he waved you off, telling you that he’d go home when he was healed enough.

You took him back to the doctor to have his stitches removed and checked for any remaining signs of the concussion. He had healed pretty well, but he had some deep scars; his right cheek had two long slashes, along with various other cuts on his face, marring his skin forever. He constantly reached up to poke at them, feeling self-conscious.

“Stop touching them, they’re still healing,” you chided as you pulled into your parking spot.

He shrugged, but put his hand down and stopped touching his face.

As the two of you came around the corner, you saw four men standing in front of your closed shop. One you recognized as Arthur. The others were clearly friends, given how John simultaneously lit up and shut down at seeing them.

“You son of a bitch,” Arthur growled as he saw the two of you, stalking towards John. You immediately stood in front of his path.

“Excuse you?” you snarled.

Arthur stopped short, stared at you, and suddenly smiled; it was a warm, kind smile, not what you were expecting after his angry grimace just a moment before. “You’re perfect for him, you really are.”

You glanced over at John, who was looking just as confused as you were.

“Why… why are you all here?” John asked.

Arthur’s smile turned into a serious frown. “We need to talk.” He glanced at you before focusing on John. “How much does she know?”

You looked at John again. He looked back at you, a million apologies in his eyes, guilt meter off the charts. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh before turning to Arthur. “He hasn’t told me anything. As far as I know, he works as a courier of some kind.”

Arthur shrugged. “That’s partially right, I guess.” He looked at John. “C’mon. Club business.”

John met your eyes, silently asking permission. You nodded. He walked ahead and joined the others.

“We’ll introduce ourselves to ya later, lass,” the redhead said with a friendly, sympathetic smile as he left with the rest of them.

You watched them all walk down the road, your thoughts churning with a billion questions.

But your heart said it would be alright. You just had to believe in John.

As your anxiety started to rise, you shook your head and turned to the shop. Working would keep your mind off of this, and since your shop was closed today, you decided to clean and organize and work on a few orders.

At least until John returned. Then you were going to interrogate the fuck out of him.

***

John took one last look over his shoulder to see his girl entering the shop. He could see the agitation in her shoulders and knew that when he went back to her, he was going to have to explain everything.

He might lose her tonight. The thought clenched at his heart so tightly that he almost lost his breath.

Arthur’s hand clapped down on his shoulder, breaking into his thoughts. “So, where do you want to eat?”

John looked back at Arthur, still confused. “Uh, Triple Patty’s, I guess.”

They went to the restaurant, got a table on the outdoor patio away from the other patrons, and ordered their food. All the while, John just got more and more antsy. What were they not telling him?

“Alright, what the hell is goin’ on?” John finally asked as the waitress went away with their orders.

The men all looked at each other, then they all looked at Arthur, who sighed. 

“The VDL Riders are no more, John.”

John’s jaw dropped.

“Dutch lied to us!” Lenny blurted out.

Charles put a hand on Lenny’s shoulder to calm him down, although John could tell in Charles’ expression that he was bitter about the lie as well.

“Dutch said he was goin’ back for ya,” Sean explained. “We met up back at the club, and he said he couldn’t find your body, too many cops were crawlin’ around.”

John raised an eyebrow. “My body?”

Charles spoke next. “He implied you were dead. Arthur tried calling your phone, but it didn’t pick up, so we could only assume Dutch was telling the truth. He said he’d take care of everything, so we could only mourn.”

“I had my suspicions though,” Arthur said. “Went to the nearest hospital a day later, found out you had been released and that you had left with your girl, but they wouldn’t let me know anything beyond that. Since you were clearly fine, I left you alone while we took care of things.” Then he glared at John. “But why the hell didn’t you call any of us?”

“My phone got smashed.”

“Why didn’t ya come back?” Sean asked. 

“My bike’s totaled.”

“Ya ever heard of a cab?” Sean shot back.

John shrugged.

Arthur glared. “Did it even occur to you that we might be worried about you?”

John blinked in surprise, then sagged under his glare. “I… I’m sorry.”

Arthur sighed. “Anyway. Once I found out that you were fine, we confronted Dutch. He panicked, tried to cover himself.”

“Then he had himself a hissy fit and threatened to kick us out of  _ his _ building before he stormed off,” Lenny added.

Arthur nodded. “So we all packed up and left. We’re done with him.”

John stood up straighter. “What—”

Arthur waved his hand. “I got yer stuff. It’s in storage.”

“...Thank you.”

Arthur just waved his hand again. “Stop it. It’s weird when yer all… nice.”

“Must be your girl’s influence,” Lenny joked.

“So, now do we get to meet her?” Sean asked, looking as interested as a suburban housewife eager for gossip.

John slowly grinned. “Yeah, you get to meet her.”

***

A couple hours had passed, and you were just finishing up a bouquet for an online order when the men showed up outside again. You unlocked the door and stepped outside, looking at each of them in turn, until finally your eyes rested on John. He looked unsure, wary, and met your eyes for just a moment before glancing away.

Arthur suddenly pushed him forward towards you. John stumbled and reached out for you just as you reached out for him, and when your hands met, it was just as electric as it always was.

“The boy’s alright,” Arthur said, nodding his head at John. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

You looked up at John, who grinned sheepishly at you. “I promised you I’d tell you everything.” He stepped beside you and gestured at the men. “This is my family.”

***

You had invited them into the shop and brought out some soda & snacks. And over the course of a couple hours, John told you everything, with the occasional commentary by the others. Charles, Lenny, Sean, Javier, and Arthur were all charming men with stories about John that illuminated so much about who he was, and what made him the man he was today. You could feel that familial bond, a group of brothers, bonded by a love of motorcycles and living free.

You could sense their sadness about leaving Dutch, but also their resolve at turning their lives around and realizing that they were about to go down a dark path, never to return. So together, they changed course. Together, they tried to save themselves.

So they started to talk about the future, now that they were free. You found out that Arthur had been working part time at a tattoo parlor recently, and now that he had left the club completely, he had asked for full time and had been accepted as an apprentice, on top of his assistant duties. John was pleasantly surprised by this news.

“When you become a licensed artist, you can give me a tattoo,” he had said with a grin.

For the time being, Arthur was staying with Charles and Javier, but the three of them had decided to move to this town, while Lenny & Sean were renting a small apartment on the other side of the city. They were planning to stay in the big city and just take on more shifts at their part time jobs, but they were keeping their ears open for any opportunities. 

Sean had no real plans, but he was open to suggestions. You jokingly said he should be a radio DJ, and his eyes lit up while everyone else groaned.

“Oh no, don’t give him a reason to talk even more,” John grumbled.

“He’s insufferable now, imagine him with an audience,” Arthur joked.

Meanwhile, Lenny was thinking about going to community college, he just needed to figure out what he wanted to study. He had been contemplating English literature or political science, he wasn’t sure which yet.

Charles had been working at a cafe before, and was thinking of getting a cafe of his own in this town. He knew it’d be a long road to get there, but he was willing to work hard for his new dream.

Javier wasn’t sure, but he had made conversation with some assistants at a modeling agency the last time he was working at the same cafe as Charles, and was contemplating exploring those options. He was definitely the type to be addicted to social media, you thought as you listened to him talk about a new app called Instagram. Sounded like another app that would die in a year. You were going to stick with Facebook for now.

John had shrugged when they had asked him what he wanted to do. “All I know is that I want to stay here,” he had said, looking at you.

The others had glanced at each other, and as if they had some kind of mental link, they decided it was time to go and leave the two of you alone. They graciously helped you take out the empty cans, and gave you their phone numbers, in case anything happened to John again.

As the others left the shop to return to their respective homes, Arthur turned around and walked back to John. He took a small box out of his jacket. 

“Here.”

John looked down. It was a phone.

“No excuses. It’s on a prepaid plan. Keep in touch.”

John looked up at him. “I will.” He paused. “Thank you, brother.”

Arthur’s lip quirked up to one side. “I know, I know.” 

He turned and left, waving with two fingers.

You stepped forward and looked at John, noticing his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“John?”

He turned to you and smiled, truly happy. “So, this is what true freedom feels like.”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

He paused as he looked into your eyes, memorizing them as if it would be the last time. “Can I stay with you?”

You could hear his unspoken questions in the tone of his voice, the fear he tried to hide in his stormy grey eyes.  _ Am I good enough for you? Do you still accept who I am, knowing what you know now? _

“Yes John, you can stay.” You stepped closer to him reaching out to caress his scarred cheek. “You can stay as long as you want.”


	6. A Place to Call Home

The two of you headed upstairs, hand in hand. There was a tenseness in the air, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was as if the string tying the two of you together had been drawn as taut as it could go, and in mere moments, you felt like it was going to snap and the two of you would crash into each other, uncontrolled, unrestrained.

But before that could happen, you needed to tell John. You needed to open up to him, just as he had opened up to you.

His hand caressed the small of your back as you made it to the top of the stairs.

You turned, and he took one step and engulfed you in his arms.

“Baby, I need you tonight,” he rasped. Then he quickly added, “But only if you want to.”

You pressed your hands against John’s chest. He pulled back to look at you, concerned.

“I…” You swallowed and tried again. “I’ve never been with anyone before.”

John stepped back. “Do… do you want to wait?”

“No, no!” you nearly shouted. “I just… Don’t expect me to be any good, I guess,” you mumbled.

He held your face in his big, warm hands. “Sweetheart, it ain’t about bein’ good or experienced. It’s about feelin’, it’s about emotion.” He moved in a little closer and gave your lips a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips. “I just want to show you how much…” He took a deep breath. “How much I love you.”

“John?”

“I love you,” he said with more conviction. “More than anything else.”

You lunged forward and kissed him, full force, filled with a desire for this man unlike any other you had ever felt. And just as with every touch before, it was as if a thunderstorm rolled through your bodies, sparkin a fire in you as you started to tug off his jacket.

He chuckled as he shrugged his jacket off, his hands coming back to you to rub up and down your back, to your hips, gripping them and pulling you tightly against the line of his body. You could feel his desire for you against your thigh, and you rubbed against him, moaning softly. 

“I want you, John. All the way.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he breathed, walking backwards until his knees hit the bed. He sat down, holding you between his legs as he helped you take off your shirt. He fumbled with the back of your bra, trying to unclasp it, but only ended up cursing.

“I never understood these damn things,” he mumbled as you laughed, reaching behind yourself to undo the clasps, flinging the bra across the room. John let out a small sound of unbridled desire as he reached up to grab your breasts, teasing your nipples before taking one into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud as he tugged at the other one, making you moan and lean into his touch.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he said as he kissed his way down to your stomach. He looked up at you then, his hands resting at the fly of your jeans. He waited, watching your reaction.

You reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped your fly, then let him take over as he slid your jeans down your thighs, down your calves, his hands running down your legs, taking a moment here and there to squeeze, to touch, to feel. He let out a shuddering breath as his hands were busy memorizing the shape of your body.

Staring at your pink bikini panties, he slipped his hand under the waistband and pulled down slowly, as if he was unwrapping the most precious of gifts. You were wet, and he noticed with a smile, caressing your inner thighs with two fingers, closer and closer to your nether lips until he finally stroked your clit.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Like what I’m doin’ to you?” he teased as he slipped his fingers through your folds, gently stroking you around your opening before dipping one finger inside of you, just a little bit.

“Yes, fuck yes.”

John laughed softly. “C’mere.”

He lay back on the bed, his hands on your hips, guiding you forward. “Put your knees here,” he said, patting the bed on either side of his head.

You tentatively crawled forward, and once you were in reach, John wrapped his arms behind your thighs and grabbed your ass, pulling you towards his mouth. You fell forward onto your hands and looked down to see John looking up at you with a grin before shoving his face between your legs.

You nearly fell on top of him as he lapped at your core, his hands kneading your ass. He explored you with his tongue, making your toes curl and your breaths come out in short gasps. When his lips closed around your clit and started to suck gently, his tongue pressing against you, you mewled helplessly.

You felt your core tighten, felt your heart pound harder as he pleasured you, until the dam burst and you cried out his name, coming hard against his mouth. Your legs trembled and you struggled to stay upright as he held you close, kissing your core until you finally settled, your legs about to give out.

He gently rolled you over, moving you so that you were lying on your back in the middle of the bed before getting up. Giving you a cocky grin, he pulled off his shirt, toed off his shoes and socks, and took off his belt. Then he rested his hands on the fly of his jeans.

“You ready, baby?” he said with a smirk as he slowly pulled off his pants and kicked them aside.

“Fuck me already,” you nearly growled as you glanced down at his hard shaft, making him grin proudly. He kneeled on the bed and spread your legs, leaning forward to rub the head of his cock along your slit. 

“You asked for it,” he said as he started taking you, slowly, inch by inch. When you winced, he stopped.

“Keep going,” you demanded.

He leaned over and held your face in his hands. “Only if you tell me you’re okay,” he said.

“I’m good, please John, please, more,” you begged as you lifted your hips, taking in more of him.

“I like when you beg me,” he rasped as he pushed forward, his eyes focused solely on you as he took you the rest of the way. When his hips came flush with yours, he let out a breath. “You feel like heaven, sweetheart.”

You kissed him, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him close. He responded in kind, deepening the kiss as he rolled his hips, starting off slow until you whimpered and undulated your hips under him, reaching around to grab his ass and push him in deeper.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” you urged, letting the wilder side of you take control.

He growled as he gripped your hips and started driving into you with more strength, his biceps flexing as he held himself up, giving himself more room to slide out and ram back inside of you. You wrapped your legs around him, crossing your ankles as you let go of his neck and gripped his arms, feeling his muscles as he fucked you harder and faster with each moment.

“Come for me, baby,” he said in a rush of breath, slowing his hips just enough so he could reach down to thumb your clit. Your body tensed, your pussy tightened around him as his irresistible touch drew out your climax.

“Oh fuck, yes John, yes!” you cried out as you felt that blissful wave of pleasure rolling through your body, your hips lifting up to meet his powerful thrusts.

John couldn’t hold back, watching you writhe under him; he came with a shout, moaning your name as he emptied himself inside of you, his final thrusts shaking the bed as he drove himself as deep as possible.

He collapsed next to you, catching his breath, his hand caressing your belly as you caught yours. You turned to him, a big goofy grin on your face.

“That was amazing,” you said breathily.

“ _ You’re _ amazin’, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you close and kissing your forehead.

Then he suddenly froze and pulled back. “Oh god. I didn’t wear a condom,” he said, his eyes wide in panic.

You patted his arm. “Don’t worry, I’m on the pill.” You yawned, feeling sleepy. “Been on the pill since our third date.”

John let out a long breath in relief. “You could’ve told me sooner about that.”

You grinned cheekily at him. “I was waiting for you to make a move.”

“You could’ve made the move, you’re more of a go-getter than I am.”

You slapped his arm. “Even I have my weaknesses,” you muttered.

“Oh? Wasn’t aware you even had any weaknesses,” he teased, poking your cheek. Then he cupped your cheek instead, giving you a serious look. “You can be weak around me. I’ll be here for you. Always.”

You smiled and turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand; you knew he would keep his word.

***

It had been six years since then. You smiled as you watched John hang up the last sign inside your new flower shop; you now offered more services, and with Javier’s help in marketing, you had more customers than ever.

So together, you and John rented a larger space, with a larger apartment. It would be the second time you had moved since you first started your business, but it would be worth it. After all, you would need more room.

“Mommy, Mommy!”

Rachel, your four year old daughter, came bursting through the shop doors.

“Careful, sweetpea,” John said as he came down from the ladder and scooped up his daughter. “No running inside the shop.”

“Sorry Daddy,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“She’s quite a handful,” a familiar deep voice amusedly said. Arthur came into the shop, carrying Rachel’s unicorn backpack for her.

“Uncle Arthur says I’m his favorite girl,” Rachel boasted. “I’m gonna marry him one day.”

You laughed hard as you watched John grow deathly pale. “Uh-oh John, you aren’t your little sweetpea’s favorite person anymore.”

John shot an angry glare at Arthur. “You been spoiling her again?”

“Would I do that?” Arthur said, a grin on his face.

“Thanks for watching her today,” you said as you reached out to take Rachel’s backpack from Arthur. 

He immediately held it away from you. “I can carry it to her room.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my  _ god _ , not you too? I can carry a child’s backpack.”

This time it was John’s turn to laugh. “See? I told you, don’t try to carry anything around any of us.” 

You let out a resigned sigh. The other guys had also treated you like a glass vase, carrying everything for you whenever they came to visit.

“Anyways, I owe you,” Arthur added.

“For what?” you asked.

“For savin’ John,” he said without a hint of irony as he walked past them, holding his hand out to Rachel. “C’mon little cowgirl, let’s put yer stuff away.”

“Yeehaw!” she yelled as she ran past Arthur, opened the door to the apartment and ran up the stairs, Arthur following after her at his usual languid pace.

As the door closed, you turned to John. “I saved you?”

John smiled as he walked closer to you and placed his hand on your growing belly. “Yeah, you did. You made me want to be a better man.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re the light that brought me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some info that I couldn’t really shove into the story from a narrative perspective, so I’m just noting it here: 1) Dutch controlled Arthur & John’s phones, so he cut off John’s service. 2) Arthur and Dutch had a talk after all the other guys left, but that story will have to be told at another time. Anyway, so a couple of the restaurants I mentioned reference real life chain restaurants. Let me know if you can guess what those are! And finally, in keeping with the first fic in this series, I made the title of the fic a lyric from a song, and I tried to make sure the song sort of matched the theme of the fic. Because, you know, I’m crazy.


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